If rationality and consistent thought are the preferred
distinguishing marks of man, then even if it is admitted that man, as a whole,
also has passions, the supremacy of rational thought over them may well seem an
unquestionable idea. This is all the more so, since it is quite obvious that
gaining some such control is a basic condition of growing up, and even, at the
extreme, of sanity. But to move from that into making such control into the
ideal, rules out a priori most forms of spontaneity. And this seems to be
absurd.

I would suggest to find your deepest impulse, and follow that. The notion that
there is something that is one's deepest impulse, that there is a discovery to
be made here, rather than a decision; and the notion that one trusts what is so
discovered, although unclear where it will lead—these, rather, are the point.
The combination—discovery, trust, and risk—are central to my sort of outlook,
as of course they are to the state of being in love.

Although this is not print, I write in a manner that
facilitates transmission in other forms such as print, spoken word, and via a
screen reader. So terms such as "this article" are preferable to
"this website," and I avoid terms like "click here," which
makes no sense when using a screen reader, for instance. In determining what
language is most suitable, it is helpful to imagine I'm writing the content for
print. So my work is no longer a finished corpus, some content enclosed in an object
or its margins, but a differential network, a fabric of traces referring
endlessly to something other than itself, to other differential traces. The
content in these traces is a glimpse of something, an encounter ...

Early mornings were never my thing. I mean, it’s not that artists are lazy. Or out drinking late most nights. Or not out last night, a Tuesday. Hungover. I go out with the dog. It’s still basically dark. A kind of dark blue fog, super cold and grey. A couple are out early, two middle aged men bundled up and both smoking with thick leather gloves. They are sitting on a bench in front of the takeout place on the corner. It’s way too cold to be sitting outside. I hear one say to the other as I pass them, “do you want the thing or the other thing.” And I think, this is true partnership, to have thoughts coalesce around the same object. Not a shared thought, but a coming together. The muffin or the bagel. Privileging someone else’s desires for a subjectless thing. Generosity. Just as likely the better looking half of an egg and cheese sandwich. I go in the store and order one for myself. Salt and grease.

Today in 1923 Tennessee became the first state to outlaw the teaching of evolution. Today in 1933 the Reichstag passed the Enabling Act, granting Hitler total power. Fittingly, today is miserable. Still basically dark, hail. The never ending domino fall of winter storms.

March 29th, 2011

I live in America’s most bug infested city. There are bug infested mattresses all around my neighborhood this evening. It’s trash night and everyone has put the big stuff on the curb. Not just bug-ridden mattresses, also rugs, rotting Ikea cushions from a few seasons back, clothes of all kinds. I drop off my sheets at the laundry across the street and six o ...